


pyrrhic

by CapyWritesShit



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, Crying, Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Minor Character Death, Regret, Vomiting, heed the tags, oh yeah, ruby is just having an all around bad time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29308797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapyWritesShit/pseuds/CapyWritesShit
Summary: pyrrhic (adj.)(of a victory) won at too great a cost to have been worthwhile for the victorThere's nothing fun about victory, Ruby finds.[or: ruby chooses to attack saccharina in the final battle. this is the bloody aftermath.]
Relationships: Caramelinda Rocks & Ruby Rocks
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	pyrrhic

There's nothing fun about victory, Ruby finds. There's no triumph in standing over a sea of corpses and knowing her heartbeat is the only one for miles. There's no vindication in smelling the blood, having her sweat cling her skin and slick up her bow from overexertion. There's no joy in the smile her shadow gives her, mocking the lack of braid and absence of warmth.

The once bubblegum pink grass has been stained with a myriad of colors. Green, yellow, orange, brown—Ruby can't count the number of bloodied weapons she sees strewn about. There's a stillness she doesn't like, as if the world is holding its breath, awaiting a fate not yet set in stone. She can feel the breeze on her skin, sending chills down her spine. She can feel the bile rising up her throat, threatening to spill whatever she'd eaten earlier in the day. She can feel the strong grip of a hand on her shoulder, and when she glances back, her mom is staring at the carnage before them.

Her eyes hold so much pain, but it's glazed over with experience. She's been through a war before, Ruby remembers. This is not the first time she's lost everything.

For the first time since the battle stopped, Ruby let's herself feel.

And she feels so much.

If she had a larger vocabulary, maybe, if she were slightly more well read, she might have known the words to describe the vast well of emotions that she's opened her heart to. The most she can think of is _mourning_. She's in mourning, maybe. Is it really appropriate to be in mourning when she's just won a war? She doesn't think there's a clear cut answer for that.

The cheers of the Dairy Islanders have long since faded, silent from the moment Ruby nocked her first arrow against the queen, and even through the haze of blood and gore and viscera she knows they will not start again. There's nothing to celebrate, really. A battle won is nothing in comparison to thousands of lives lost.

Sympathy has never really been Ruby's strong suit. She's always been much better at getting angry, at feeling the rage inside her boil up and spill over and out. Once upon a time, she thought she'd be a good barbarian, like her dad. If only she could weaponize the fear and the hatred and the anger that rooted itself in her chest, curled up into her lungs and stole her air.

Now, she'll never know.

Her mom's hand drops from her shoulder to take her hand. She squeezes. Ruby does not squeeze back.

It's not better. She doesn't feel better. Winning was supposed to feel good, it was supposed to bring the bubbling delight that Jet used to set off in her. She was supposed to be free again, she was supposed to be eighteen again, _she was supposed to be fucking happy_.

There's blood on her clothes, and very little of it is her own. Some of it is green, a minty color that smells of yogurt and chocolate. Some of it is brown, the color of the fields in Ceresia, with crumbs littered about. The bulk of it is light pink, splattered across her front like a horrible paint job, trying to cover her in a permanent reminder of her own foolishness.

Her dad's body hasn't gone cold yet. It's surprising, considering most of his blood and gore is seeping into Ruby's clothes and dripping off her skin. It smells sweet. Like cola and strawberries.

When she retches onto the ground, she's not careful enough to avoid the Vegetanian soldier at her feet, and the red-tinged vomit covers everything. A desecration of sorts, she supposes.

Her mom tries to rub her back through it, but all the movement does is cause tears to finally show up and they pour from her eyes at an ungodly speed. She didn't even know she had this many tears, but now that she's sobbing and retching and wheezing, maybe this has been a long time coming. Maybe she's had pent up tears stored for this very occasion, for the moment she loses, because Ruby never wins and Ruby never will win. All she ever does is lose and lose and _lose_ and _just this once_ she thought she might get a break, but—well.

There's bodies littering the ground, and none of them are hers.

She wonders, briefly, what will happen next, but that's quickly swept aside when she sees Primsy—young, stern, horrified Primsy—quietly making her way across the battlefield with Annabelle at her side, carefully avoiding as many bodies as she can. Her flats and the trim of her dress are stained with the rainbow. It's pretty on her.

When she stops in front of Ruby's dad's corpse, Primsy does not look happy. Her face is grim, her fists are tightly bunching her dress up her eyes are red with tears. She looks startlingly young.

She does not speak. Ruby might've appreciated it more, had she not been resentful of it. There's no reason to pity her. Ruby doesn't need pity, she doesn't need careful glances from people she's known for a grand total of a month, she doesn't need their _fucking generosity_. She's Ruby Rocks, heir to the Candian throne, sole survivor of a war. She's a goddamned _warrior_.

Her mom squeezes her hand and her grip is so tight it actually hurts. Ruby is eighteen.

The momentary glance she takes away from Primsy's face— _she can't look at the pity, the look she got when Jet died, the look she got in the cathedral, the look she got when she awoke on the carriage, she doesn't fucking want it_ —brings her eyes towards the peppermint bag lying not twenty feet away and that's all it takes.

Ruby's always been the weak link, of course that's all it takes.

The tears come easier now, streaking down her cheeks and carving pathways through the blood rapidly crusting onto her skin. Her sobs are heavy, they're gross and they hurt her chest and her body is on fire and her heart aches and aches and aches because Ruby has nothing left. Is this how her mom felt, when Aunt Lazuli died? Is this how her dad felt, when he became king? Is this grief, in its truest, deepest form? She hopes so, because if this isn't as bad as it gets, she won't be able to live. Ruby can only take so much before she breaks, snaps, shatters and splinters and every other word of the like because she simply _can't_.

She vaguely registers her mom on her knees, kneeling beside her, also crying fiercely and holding her tighter than she ever had before. Ruby's never been hugged by her mom like this. She didn't think her mom loved her enough for that. Well, she supposes people do crazy things in mourning.

She wishes Jet were here. She misses Jet. Ruby misses Jet, she misses Jet, _she misses Jet so much_ it hurts it hurts it _hurts_. She thinks her mom might feel the same way.

Victory is not sweet, it's not fulfilling, it's not good. There's nothing good about this. She wishes she hadn't shot the arrow, she wishes she hadn't started the fight, she wishes she hadn't fought with Saccharina to begin with because all it's ever brought her if grief and trouble. She wants to go back, to change whatever she can to better handle herself. She'd do anything to bring her dad back, to bring Saccharina back, bring Liam and Theo and Cumulous back, to bring Lapin and Preston back, to bring Jet back. Anything, anything, _anything_.

She never thought victory in the face of everything would hurt more than if she'd fallen alongside them.

**Author's Note:**

> ive been on an acoc kick and i found this in my drafts so i decided to clean it up a bit and post it. leave a kudos and comment if you enjoyed maybe...👉🏻👈🏻  
>    
> [tumblr](https://theswirlersisterscircus.tumblr.com)


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